Colonel Brandon's Diary (5 page)

I went out to the carriage.

Instead of setting out for Gretna Green, as I had hoped, I found myself setting out for my great-aunt’s house. But I knew that all was not lost. It was a delay, and not a disaster.

 

 

The journey was long and uncomfortable, for my father had ordered the old coach, and it rumbled along at a funereal pace, stopping only to change the horses on its way to Langley Castle. I fell asleep at last, rocked by the motion, and arrived with aches and pains in my neck and legs but otherwise refreshed.

The house was as grim as I remembered it. Grey turrets were outlined against the gloomy sky, and I felt my spirits drop as I went inside.

There was an air of decay in the hall, with its suits of armour and weapons from bygone eras displayed as though they were treasures. They had not been cleaned for a very long time. The metal was dull. The portraits of dour ancestors frowned down on me, as if condemning me for being young and in love.

Horsby, looking even more ancient than the last time I saw him ten years ago, walked unsteadily in front of me with a disapproving air and showed me into the drawing room.

It was as cheerless as the hall, with its heavy, old-fashioned furniture and its tapestries on the walls. But there was one unexpected gleam of colour, for a young woman was sitting on a faded sofa, and as she rose in a rustle of silk, I saw that she was my sister.

‘Catherine, what are you doing here?’ I asked her.

She looked at me as though I were a disobedient seven-year-old.

‘George and I are visiting Aunt Isabella. I do not need to ask what you are doing here. A letter arrived from my father several hours ago, delivered by messenger; and if you needed any proof of how angry he is, you have it in the fact that he went to the expense of using a messenger instead or relying on the post. Really, James, I cannot think how you came to be so foolish! Attempting to elope with Eliza. What nonsense!’

‘I happen to love her,’ I said, with dignity.

‘That would be ridiculous enough coming from a school-girl, but coming from a man it is unforgivable. I am not surprised that our father sent you away. Fortunately, I know just the young woman to make you forget about Eliza. Her name is Miss Heath. She is utterly charming. Her hair and eyes are just like Eliza’s. In fact, she is so like her that you will scarcely notice the difference.’

‘I believe that I can tell the difference between the woman I love and a complete stranger,’ I remarked.

She stared at me.

‘Really, James, you are always so odd, I do not know what to make of you. I am offering you an unexceptionable young woman for a wife and do you thank me? No. You simply continue to talk of Eliza. You must put her out of your mind. She is not for you. Miss Heath, however, is an amiable and rich young woman, and would welcome an offer from you, as long as you can keep your oddities hidden for a week or two.’

‘If Miss Heath is amiable and rich, I can hardly believe she will welcome a proposal from a younger son.’

I sat down gloomily, thinking that I would rather have endured one of Great-Aunt Isabella’s lectures than my sister’s misguided attempts to find me a wife.

She hesitated.

‘There is that about her ancestry . . . to be sure, it is very little . . . but her father made his money in trade. There, now you have it! So you see, she cannot attach a man from one of the best families. But you need not fear that her family will embarrass you, for her father had the good sense to die last year, thereby increasing his daughter’s chances of making a respectable match; and although his wife is still with us, you will not have to see her above once or twice a year.’

‘You are too kind.’

She stared.

‘There you go again with your incomprehensible remarks,’ she said. ‘You were dropped on your head, so your nurse said, when you were an infant, and that must account for it, I suppose. But make an effort, James. Miss Heath is worth pursuing, and if you make up your mind to it, she could be your wife by the end of the summer. And now,’ she went on, looking at me from head to foot, ‘you had better make yourself presentable, for Aunt Isabella will be wanting to see you before the hour is out.’

Horsby showed me to my room, and I washed and put on fresh linen before going downstairs again to wait upon Aunt Isabella.

She was by this time sitting in the drawing room, with Aunt Phoebe on one side of her and Aunt Cicely on the other. She raised her lorgnette and looked at me disapprovingly.

‘Well, young man, and what have you to say for yourself?’ she asked me.

‘How do you do, Aunt,’ I replied.

‘Do not
how do you do, Aunt
me,’ she returned. ‘You are a fool, it seems, like the rest of your sex.’ She consulted the letter in her lap. ‘You tried to run off with Eliza, your father tells me.’ She looked back at me. ‘I have no sympathy for him. If he had remained single, as I advised him to do all those years ago, instead of marrying your mother, he would not be in this predicament now. I told him how it would be. I told him she would run through his fortune before the year was out, and so it was. You, at least, had the sense to fall in love with a fortune. Did you speak?’

‘No, Aunt.’

‘And a good thing, too, for you can have nothing sensible to say. And so, your father sends you to me. And what am I to do with you, pray?’

‘Nothing, Aunt. I am ready to leave at once.’

‘So you can make mischief? I am seventy-eight years old, James. I have lived long enough in the world to know you will not accept the situation. Your father knows it, too, which is why he has charged me to keep you here until Harry and Eliza are married.’

‘And do you mean to do his bidding?’

‘You will keep a civil tongue in your head. I have no interest in doing your father’s bidding, but every interest in preventing you from making a mistake that will ruin your life. You will forget Eliza immediately and marry another heiress. It is too soon; you are too young; but it appears to be the only way to prevent your doing something foolish. Your sister has found a wife for you already, I gather, a Miss Heath. You will meet her tomorrow at my ball. You will flatter her and ask her to marry you, and Eliza will be forgotten. Is that understood? ’

‘Yes, Aunt,’ I said, for I certainly understood her.

‘Very well, you may go.’

As I left her, I thought, on reflection, that it was no bad thing that I would have to remain at Aunt Isabella’s for a time. Eliza would be safe at home, and as she would never consent to marrying my brother, I would have time to secure a position in a lawyer’s office and take lodgings, arranging both by letter. Then, with everything planned, it would be time to elope with Eliza, and we would have a life already waiting for us when we returned from Scotland.

 

 

After a good night’s sleep, I felt refreshed, and before breakfast, I wrote to Leyton, asking him to mention my name to his father with a view to finding me employment. I finished by requesting him to look for some respectable lodgings for us.
Nothing too expensive, but the sort of place that would suit Eliza,
I wrote to him.

I was half-afraid my aunt would read it after I had sent it to be posted, but the house was in a state of turmoil as last minute arrangements were being made for the ball, and the letter left the house with its seal unbroken.

I did my best to avoid the bustle as footmen carried chairs into the ballroom and set them against the walls for those guests who preferred not to dance, or arranged card-tables in the sitting room, or placed vases of flowers on console tables. Maids ran about with dusters and the housekeeper followed them, inspecting everything they had done and calling them back to finish any work they left half-finished.

I escaped into the library, where peace reigned, broken only by the ticking of the longcase clock. Dust motes swirled in the air, revealed by sudden beams of sunlight that danced in through the window and then dimmed as though crushed by the pervading gloom.

I thought of Eliza and wondered what she was doing. Having her dancing lessons and music lessons as usual, I supposed; listening to my father’s lectures; and counting the days until we were together again.

I had no enthusiasm for the ball but I knew it could not be avoided, so, dressed in my knee-breeches and ruffled shirt, I went downstairs as the guests began to arrive.

I headed towards the card room, meaning to spend the evening there, but my sister waylaid me. To my dismay, she had a vulgar-looking woman, accompanied by her daughter, in tow.

‘James, I want you to meet Mrs Heath and her charming daughter, Miss Heath,’ said my sister.

Mrs Heath was dressed in a gown more suited to court than a country ball. Her panniered gown was covered in swags and flounces, her hair was powdered and her cheeks were highly rouged. She walked with the air of a woman who thought she was in the height of fashion, but in this she was deluding herself, and my aunt’s friends pulled their skirts out of her way as she walked past.

Miss Heath was dressed with more restraint. Her hair was unpowdered and her face was unrouged, but she had her mother’s expression.

‘Charmed, I’m sure,’ said Mrs Heath. She turned to her daughter. ‘What d’you think of him, then, Sally? An ’andsome one, ain’t ’e? Look at ’is calves!’

I saw my sister shudder, and I believe only the sight of Miss Heath’s exquisitely matched pearls encouraged her to continue with the introduction.

I bowed politely but coldly.

‘Well, go on then, Mr Brandy, ain’t you going to ask ’er to dance?’ said Mrs Heath jovially.

I wished I was not a gentleman, for then I would have been able to walk away, but as it was, I offered Miss Heath my arm.

As I led her onto the floor, she looked around her, saying, ‘Coo, ain’t it grand?’

I wondered if my sister knew what kind of paragon she had picked for me to marry, or whether Miss Heath’s blue eyes, corn-coloured hair and thirty thousand pounds had blinded her to her protégée’s faults.

‘Miss Heath,’ I said. ‘I believe my sister has given you to understand . . . that is, I want you to know that I am not in a position to marry. I am already in love, with a lady my family does not approve of — or, rather, they do not approve of her for me. If they have misled you in any way, then I apologize.’

‘Oh, thank goodness,’ she said, in completely different tones. ‘I am in love, too, with our curate. I am sorry if I embarrassed you, but I wanted to repulse you so that you would not offer for me. Mama wants me to marry into the gentry, you see, and so I have to humour her, but I would never be happy with rarefied people, living in a house like this. A country parsonage is where I belong, with people I know and love.’

‘Then we may enjoy our dance together,’ I said with relief.

‘We may indeed! And if you would care to dance with me again, and to take me into supper, we may be comfortable then as well. Our relations will be satisfied, for they will see us together, and so they will not plague us and tell us we are disobedient. I confess, it will be a relief, for I am tired of being paraded in front of the gentry like a prize mare and then berated for not being grateful.’

The orchestra began to play and we danced, talking, when we passed each other, of our loves, I of Eliza, and she of Mr Abelard.

Catherine smiled on me for paying attention to Miss Heath, and even my aunt managed something that passed for a smile when she saw me at supper, whilst Mrs Heath watched at us benignly and declared that I was
a right ’un.

I danced with Miss Heath again after supper and we talked of our loves again, and the evening passed agreeably.

 

 

The ball did not end until the early hours, and it was almost midday when Fildew pulled back my curtains this morning. I thought myself back at home to begin with, and leapt out of bed, eager to see Eliza. Then I remembered, and I dressed more slowly before going down to breakfast.

‘I told you how it would be,’ said my sister as I sat down beside her. She, too, had only just risen. She had finished her plate of rolls and was drinking a cup of chocolate. ‘Did I not predict this very thing? I knew you would forget Eliza. And who can blame you? Miss Heath is a charming young woman. There is everything in her favour. She has beauty and wealth, and, best of all, her mother approves of the match. But you still have work to do, and you must not rest until she is your fian cée. You need to propose to her whilst she is in the country, for after she finishes her visit in the neighbourhood she will be returning to town. She will no doubt be surrounded by suitors there, so you must ask her to be your wife in the next five weeks. You will marry quickly, in an autumn wedding, and then you will have finished your wedding tour in time for Christmas. You will be safely established in town by the new year, and George, and I can visit you for the Season.’

I listened in silence, glad that Miss Heath and I had come to an understanding, for I could not have borne my sister’s words otherwise, nor her determination to order my life.

Catherine took my silence to mean that I agreed with her, and continued to tell me what to do as I ate.

As soon as I had finished, I excused myself and went down to the stables, where I chose a suitable mount and I went out riding, relieved to be away from my relations and from the house.

As I wore off the worst of my frustrations, I found myself thinking of Leyton and hoping that he had received my letter, so that he could act for me whilst I was incapable of acting for myself. From there it was a short step for my thoughts to stray to Eliza, and to picture her in our new home.

I wished she was with me, for it was just the sort of morning she loved: fine, with hazy cloud and a light breeze to temper the glare of the sun.